


Hidden Grace

by EnergyEmber



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnergyEmber/pseuds/EnergyEmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny grew up knowing that monsters were real. But danger never really entered her life until a hidden spark attracted a dying angel. Determined to save the angel she called David, she will align herself with hunters, travel through Hell, and give up her home. It turns out angels aren't so sweet after all. Adjusting to her new life would be easier if only they acted more ... human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My friends often describe me as paranoid, but I’m just cautious. I believe in lots of things that others don’t. And I’m not talking about God or any other sort of religion. There are unexplainable, dangerous things out there that the world turns a blind eye to because humans don’t want to believe that monsters exist. This is something I’ve studied since I was seven, from Grimm fairytales to religious myths. Anything that had connections to the supernatural, I looked into. It was actually thanks to Father Patrick that I dedicated so much of my time to this stuff.  
Everyday after school I would stay at our local parish’s day care and bible study. One night my parents were late picking me up, not that I could tell the difference then the usual time since I always stayed at St. Anthony’s church long after then sun had set. The other kids had already left; it was just the pastor and I waiting in the chapel. We were sitting in one of the front pews and he was reading something in Latin to me, because he knew I liked the sound of the language even if I didn’t understand it, until this woman in a suit walked in. I remember she had this strange smile on her face and her eyes were pure black. Father Patrick pushed me under the pew and told me to stay hidden no matter what. I guess the woman hadn’t noticed me. They talked, Father tried to get her to leave. She said she was looking for something, something she thought he had. When she got close, I saw Father throw holy water at her from a small bottle he always kept in his pocket. She lunged at him and I closed my eyes. I heard things being thrown about and cries of pain from both of them.  
Then I heard the Latin, followed by such an unearthly scream from the woman. I opened my eyes in time to see black smoke rise out of the woman’s mouth and then her body collapsed on the ground. Father didn’t explain to me what happened. After he was sure I was all right, he had me help straighten the church back up until my parents came. The next day the seven year old me confronted him about the incident until he told me everything. I still don’t believe he actually told me everything about that night, but he told me enough to get me hooked. When he realized I was never going to live that night down he started to teach me. I learned about ghosts and vampires, shifters and fairies, witches and demons.  
Father Patrick taught me how to protect myself. I wore a protection amulet from possession until I was eighteen and could get the symbol tattooed on my hip. When I moved into my own apartment last year I repainted the whole thing with paint that was mixed with holy water. I wear iron rings and keep a rosary laced through my belt at all times. Sometimes even when I meet new people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill some of my water bottle, which is always filled with holy water, on them. Sometimes I’ll do it to people I know as well, especially when my friends don’t wear the protection amulets I give them. In high school I took Latin and memorized an exorcism spell. I can read it fluently now. Oh, and lets not forget that the rug by my front door has a devil’s trap sewn on the bottom. I'm not paranoid, just incredible prepared.  
I had never encountered another supernatural being since that night when I was seven, so the only exposure to them besides what I looked up in the library was the fictional kind. Despite knowing it was real, books, movies, and TV shows that had the supernatural as a theme didn’t bore me. In fact, I loved it. I laughed when they got something wrong about lore or drew a sigil wrong and I would contact Father Patrick about anything the stories depicted that I didn’t know about. Just to see if it was real or not. One of the shows I watched was called Supernatural. Not a very original title, I know. It got canceled after the main characters averted the Apocalypse and threw Lucifer back into his cage. It got picked up as a book series, but only three books were ever published because apparently the author died not long after. The fans whisper on the online forums about the show becoming cursed after the angel characters were introduced. I immediately went to Father Patrick about the idea of angels existing. He said that of course they did, but they had never come down to Earth as far as he knew. I got the feeling he only believed that angels existed as an extension of his religious beliefs and had no proof. As for myself, I believed in God. Rarely attended mass and only prayed every once in a while, usually when I was feeling low. But I still believed enough to get conformed when I was sixteen and hide my supernatural studies from my parents, since from an outsiders view it looked kind of demonic at times. Angels I had yet to make my mind up about. The kind that guides and protects. Those were the ones that I wished were real.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a normal action that someone would never think would lead to such a strange path. I was watching DVDs of old TV shows that I owned, switching between Supernatural and Grimm when the itch started. My right eye bothered me the rest of that week. One day I rubbed it so much the white of my eye stayed red until the next morning. After the second week I gave in to seeing a doctor. The morning of I brushed my teeth with a blank look as I stared into the mirror. I looked down briefly then back to the mirror and a different face stared back at me. The sight made me jump and I dropped my toothbrush into the sink. Then it was gone, and only my own shocked face stared back at me. It happened so fast the first time I thought I’d imagined it, but for the rest of the day whenever I caught my reflection that other face stared back at me. It only ever lasted a second, enough to make me jump each time. After it was gone I couldn't even describe it, except one feature. The face’s startling blue eyes were burned into my memory from the first time it appeared instead of my reflection. They were unnerving, nothing like my own green eyes. This went on for another week until those eyes were the only things I would see when I closed my own eyes to rest.   
“I think I’m going crazy,” I said, flopping down on my couch. It had been a long day at work. Fact checking an article about different lipstick colors being able to match a girl’s aura and what it says about that individual turned out to be taxing. And incredibly boring. It was a thoughtless job that I needed to pay the bills. But if I play my cards right it can get me to the writer status at the Alternative Fashion magazine. The annoying part was I kept catching that stranger’s refection in my computer. A distraction I really could do without.   
“I don’t believe that is accurate.” I snap up into a sitting position at the sound of the voice. It was deep, gruff, and completely unfamiliar.   
“Who’s there?” I said pulling out the small saltshaker I kept in my pocket. Scrambling off the couch, I went into one of the defensive positions I learned from my self-defense classes. I wildly looked around the empty room but there was no one there. “Show yourself!”  
“I am not sure how to answer that question,” he said. I decided it was a he, based off the sound of the voice.   
“You don’t know who you are?” I said. It was stupid talking to whatever this thing was, I should make a salt circle and call Father Patrick for help. What if it was a ghost though it doesn’t feel any colder? It could be a demon, but I don’t smell sulfur. Whatever it was, it certainly couldn’t be human.  
“None of that is necessary, I assure you. I mean you no harm,” he said, in that same deadpan calm voice.  
“So now you can read my mind. Peachy,” I said. That thought made me pause. I hadn’t heard the voice, not in the way a person would listen to music or talk to another human being. “You’re in my head.”  
“I believe that is correct,” he said. I just stood there for a second in disbelief. I really must be going crazy. The belief in the supernatural was normal. I could handle a monster or ghost or even a demon, I was prepared for those encounters. But some sort of disembodied voice in my head? What in the world was I suppose to do about that?  
“Well, get the heck out!” I shouted. At the time, yelling out my fear seemed like the best idea.  
“I will try,” he said. There was this warmth in my chest and a ringing in my ears. My eyesight blurred for a minute. I rubbed my eyes hard. When I reopened them I saw myself, standing so close our noses almost touched. I jumped backwards into the couch; my balance wavered as I tried not to fall. The other me tilted her head to the side and stared at me questioningly. It was like looking at a mirror. She had my brown haired tied back in a braid wearing my favorite faded blue jeans and black spaghetti strap top. No shoes, just like me. The brown belt she was wearing even had my baby blue rosary strapped to it. I cautiously step closer and tossed the salt I was still clutching in my right hand at the figure. It passed right through. Not doing it any harm. “Is this acceptable?” The double said, but it wasn’t my voice. It was deep like a man’s voice, like the voice inside my head. This was bizarre.  
“Why do you look like me?” I said.  
“I had no other reference. I do not remember my own form,” he said. Or would it be ‘she’ now? I think I’ll stick with ‘he’.  
“I need help,” I said, walking to the kitchen table to fetch my cell phone. I paced around my small apartment as the phone rang. Grabbing my waterproof duffel bag from under my bed, I started to pack the essentials. Clothes, hygiene products, salt, holy water, and money. My double watched my every move with an indifferent look on his face. It felt like an eternity before Father Patrick picked up. “Hi Father, its me, Danny. No, not so much. I really need to talk to you,” I said into the receiver, “in person. Can I come over tonight? I know it’s late, but something.” I paused and looked over at my double that still hadn’t really moved from the spot he appeared, before dropping my full duffel bag on the couch. “Something strange has happened. It’s not dangerous just strange. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and began to dial again this time to the Magazine where I work. Thankfully Matt was still there working late, I told him I had to take time off for at least a week. Family emergency. He understood, plus I’m sure it helped that I never take sick days. I grabbed my duffel bag, collected my keys, and locked up the place nice and tight. My double followed me wordlessly out to my car, he probably already knew where we were going.  
Father Patrick only lived a half an hour drive away and it was a quiet ride at first. I would even go so far and call it awkward having my double sitting in the passenger’s seat. The music playing on the radio was some indie rock channel; I was drumming my fingers on the wheel along to the song.  
“I make you uncomfortable,” my double said, it wasn’t a question. His voice spooked me a bit, but thankfully I barely swerved on the nearly empty street.  
“Its not everyday a disembodied voice with amnesia starts talking to me inside my head,” I said. It made me feel better saying that out loud. Not less crazy but better. “You really don’t remember anything?”  
“It is all very fuzzy,” he said, there was a hint of worry in his voice. It was barely there, but I could hear it all the same. I think I could even feel it.  
“You need a name then. How about David?” I said. It was the first name that popped into my head, the name of a little boy who took down a giant. That was my favorite bible story growing up.  
“David was indeed very brave. I will accept that name,” he said.  
“You’re reading my thoughts again aren’t you? In some cultures that would be considered rude,” I said with a smile. Maybe this guy isn’t so bad if he knows the story of David and Goliath.   
“I apologize,” he said, shifting in his seat. I could feel the sincerity rolling off of him.  
“Dude, it was a joke,” I said, my smile growing. It was quiet for a moment again and then I heard the quiet ‘oh’ he gave as a response. I burst out laughing. Something about the seriousness of this guy was just endearing. By the time I pulled into Father Patrick’s driveway I had already gotten use to this unreal person’s presence. The front door was open, with Father Patrick standing in the threshold wearing casual dress. I locked up the car and the Father greeted me at the door with a warm hug. It had been a while since I last visited and the gesture was comforting. He led me into the kitchen where we sat down with a cup of hot tea. I took my time explaining what had been happening over the past few weeks starting with the face that I kept seeing instead of my own reflection. He listened patiently and didn’t interrupt even when I paused every once in a while to look over at my double. David, as I am now going to call him, kept walking around the room looking at the photos of family and friends Father Patrick decorated his walls with. It was really distracting.  
“I’m going crazy aren’t I?” I said when I completed my tale. I saw David open his mouth to say something, probably to correct me about being crazy, but I sent him a glare and he quickly looks away. Father Patrick follows my gaze with a look of confusion and then turns back to me.  
“Do you see him now? What does he look like?” Father Patrick said.  
“He looks like me. He said he can’t remember what he looks like, he doesn’t remember anything,” I said then drank a big gulp of my tea. Jasmine. Not as sweet as I usually take it, but that wasn't really a priority right now. “You really can’t see him?” Father Patrick shook his head, then stood up from the table. He walked into the living room for a minute; I finished my tea while I waited. When he came back, he was carrying a thick leather bound notebook that was worn from use with loose papers trapped between the pages. He set it on the table and began to leaf through it.  
“A good friend of mine encountered something similar a few months back. A young man from her parish started hearing a voice that was soon followed by a full apparition taking on a form in his likeness. He too grew up with the knowledge of the supernatural, which she claims was the only reason he went to her for help instead of a medical professional. I was asked to look into it but never found anything concrete,” he said.   
“What happened to him?” I said, hesitation in my voice. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.  
“Leah told me miracles started to follow the boy around and he stopped looking into a way to remove the presence. She said it changed him.” I think Father Patrick could see my hands shake; he said I should stay the night and try to ignore David. He was going to make a few phone calls and get me some help. A makeshift bed was made up for me on his couch. I laid there staring at the ceiling in the dark long after Father Patrick went up stairs to sleep. Even though I couldn’t see David, I could still feel his presence sitting on the lounge chair across the room. It made me feel restless. I tapped my fingers on the cushion to a toneless song in my head.  
“You are afraid, but not of me. I do not understand,” David said in a quiet whisper. I sighed; I should have followed the Father’s advice and ignored him. It would have been the smart thing to do. After all David could be some sort of evil entity trying to slowly influence my actions and take over my life. I never claimed to be smart.  
“I’m afraid of how this thing will affect my life. I’m afraid of what something like you might attract, but you yourself don’t feel dangerous. So you can feel my emotions too, huh?” I said, pulling the checkered quilt over my head. My face felt hot with embarrassment, which he could probably feel as well.  
“You can feel mine,” he said and it was true even though I was starting to think this guy didn’t have any emotions. “I never asked for your name, despite you asking for mine. I should have asked that would have been the polite thing to do.” I smile a little at his conclusion.   
“It’s Danielle, but I like being called Danny,” I said.  
“It is nice to meet you Danny Hunter,” he said, but I hadn’t told him my last name. So how could he know? What else did he know about me, about my life? How long has he been rooting around in my head already? I didn’t want to admit it but I think I already knew the answer. My nerves were back.  
“We should get some sleep,” I said turning on to my side so I faced the back of the couch. There was this warm feeling in my chest again as I felt David retreat deep into my subconscious. I wondered if he was going to sleep tucked away between my memories. Maybe he would appear in my dreams. I closed my eyes and waited to slip into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day I didn't hear a word from David all morning as I helped Father Patrick around the house while he prepared for today's evening sermon. The Father said he had called his friend Leah and asked if we could meet with her to discuss my condition. We were going to drive to a safe meeting place tomorrow and today I needed to get supplies. It was going to be a long drive. I spent the day packing Father Patrick's car with my own duffel bag of supplies as well as the Father's own emergency pack filled with necessary things for travel. He had insisted on taking his car. I was filling the trunk with everything on the list he gave me when I noticed the compartment in the floor of the trunk. I had seen it before from times when I helped unload donations for the church's clothes drive, but I had never opened it before. It was a strange feeling of curiosity, like it wasn't my own. I had always just assumed a spare tire was under there, nothing out of the ordinary, but this time something made me open it.

What I found surprised me to say the least, though I was right about the spare tire. But there was also a pair of rifles, boxes of ammo and a couple of silver knives. I slowly closed the compartment's lid and continued with my packing. Through out the day I wanted to ask Father about what I saw, but I didn't. We didn't really talk much at all. He kept giving me these weird stares when he thought I wasn't looking. I don't know how to describe them, concern, pity, maybe even fear. He knows so much more than he is letting on, but I can't help but trust him all the same. It's not like I know anyone else who truly believes that the supernatural are real. I tried talking to David about my worries, but he ignored me. It's like he's taking Father Patrick's advice for me. I was ready for the day to be over when St. Anthony's 5 o'clock service started. Sitting in the back of the church I kept my head down with my hands folded in my lap. I didn't listen to what Father Patrick was saying up front and I didn't take part in the hymns. Instead I prayed to anyone who would listen, for strength, for clarity, and for David. He seemed like a pure soul that didn't deserve the confusion of amnesia or the distrust that I logically should feel towards him. As the crowd shuffled out of the church at the end of the service that warmth in my chest returned and David, in my form, appeared sitting next to me in the empty pew. Naturally, no one else could see him.

"Where have you been all day?" I mumbled turning my head to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the Alter at the front of the room, eyebrows furrowed. He stood up without answering me and walked down the pew to the center aisle. Walking towards the Alter at a slow pace, he traced his left hand on the top of the pews as he passed. He was half way there when I decided to get up and follow him to the front. He stopped on the steps that led up to the Alter and stared up at the stain glass that decorated the walls. It depicted pictures of saints, prophets, and angels. I could feel he was reaching for something like the beginnings of a memory, but nothing came.

"This place is important to you?" he asked.  
"I guess. I grew up here," I said, standing next to the front pew.  
"You are devote," he said and I laughed. I never saw myself as a person devoted to religion; I had never truly been devoted to anything before. Well, except maybe to my preparation against the dangers of the supernatural. He stared at me with questioning eyes, his head tiled. It made me laugh even harder.

"What's so funny?" someone said from behind me. I turned around to see my dad standing a few pews down. At this point the church had been cleared out and Father Patrick was still in the back finishing some work. My father must have attended this evening's mass, I guess I was so engrossed with my thoughts I never saw him. He was in casual dress, a flannel shirt and jeans. It's what he always wore on the weekend when he would spend the day out in the garden. He would always change before going to a service though. "You know, I've been looking for you for a long time my dear," he said with a smile on his face that never reached his eyes. "They protected you really well, a lot better than the others," he said walking towards me.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" I said my voice shaking. He stopped in front of me reaching his hands to touch my face. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't move. This feeling, something dark and wrong it was washing off of him.  
"I'm not your dad sweetheart," he said, his hands suddenly around my throat. He squeezed hard and my lungs screamed hot for air. I stared into my father's eyes and all I saw was endless darkness. A demon. Struggling I kicked widely as he lifted me off the ground, I couldn't think straight. I heard David shout for him to let me go, but even the demon couldn't see him. "Don't worry I won't kill you. The boss has big plans for you apparently." I reached up my hands and pressed them hard against his. I could hear the skin burn as it came into contact with the thick iron rings I always wore. He let go and I fell to the ground. I desperately scrambled away on all fours, gasping to catch my breath.

"You can't be here," I said my voice raspy, "this is hallowed ground." The man, no, the demon laughed in my father's voice. It made me twitch.

"The boss man wouldn't send some low-level demon to retrieve a container as important like you," he said. I scrambled to get out the salt shaker tucked into my pocket, and start to pour out the salt to form a circle. The demon flicked his wrist before the salt even hit the ground and the shaker was telekinetically sent flying out of my hand. "I see you've learned a few things since I last came looking for you all those years ago." He raised his hand again and I went flying to the left, landing hard against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me and I could barely breathe. My head was spinning and a few black spots floated through my vision. I couldn't move with my back pinned against the wall and my feet dangling a good foot off the ground. David lunged at the demon from behind, I presume to try to knock it down to take its attention from me. But he passed right through the demon and it didn't even make the slightest shiver that it might have noticed David. His expression was twisted in frustration; maybe he really was only in my head. He couldn't affect the demon or anything on his own, he was just a projection of some consciousness trapped inside my own. David looked at me, eyes pleading as the demon slowly walked towards me. It was like he was begging me to do something, but what could I do pinned to the wall completely at the mercy of this demon wearing my dad's skin. My eyes only reflected the same pleading expression.  
Then I felt the warmth in my chest, only this time it grew until it burned. The light in the room seemed to intensify, and everything looked like blurred shapes and heightened colors. I couldn't see David anymore, but I could see the demon. The familiar warm face of my dad had melted away to something dark and grotesque. It stood out like it didn't belong in the light filled room. A voice whispered in the back of my mind telling me what to do and my body obeyed before I could consciously comprehend what was happening. With my palms and the balls of my feet against the wall I pushed off with such force that I broke free of the demon's power. I tackled the demon with enough strength to knock it to the ground. It snarled, only momentarily still, from the surprise of my actions, as I rolled off and got to my feet. It rolled onto its stomach while I got into a defensive position. Before the demon could stand I swung my left leg down hard and my heel connected with the top of its head. I heard a crack when it's skull hit the tile flooring. Someone ran into the room at that point, I some how could sense the presence before I heard the footsteps.

"Start the exorcism," I said, but it came out deeper then I ever thought I could make my voice go. The command had so much power behind it; I don't know how anyone could disobey at the sound of it. Father Patrick immediately started speaking the necessary Latin, his voice a bit shaken at first but it slowly grew stronger. As he neared the end the heat in my chest subsided and my vision returned to normal. I watched as the black smoke of the demon poured forcibly out of my dad's mouth. My body shook unbearably cold without the presence of that spark of warmth, of power.

"Daddy?" I said once the demon was finally gone. I scrambled to his side carefully rolling him onto his back. My hand hovered over his month and noise, then moved down to his neck as I searched for a pulse. There wasn't one. Panicking I moved my hands to his chest and began basic CPR. I kept mumbling for him to wake up and that he was going to be okay. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My arms felt heavy; I didn't have the energy to restart his heart properly. Father Patrick knelt down and gently pulled my arms away from my dad's body. I pulled against him wanting to keep going, I couldn't let my dad die.

"He's gone dear. I'm so sorry," Father Patrick said his voice a low whisper. The last of my strength dissipated and he pulled me close into his arms. He let me cry into his chest for what felt like hours.

"It's all my fault, Father. All my fault," I said between sobs. My breathing was so sharp and heavy I have no idea if he could even understand what I said. The man led me to one of the pews far away from where the fight took place. I tucked up my legs letting my knees touch my forehead, and continued to cry. For the next few hours I watched things move in a haze. The police and an ambulance showed up. They took my dad's body away. Father Patrick took care of everything. I later found out that my dad's official cause of death was declared a heart attack, and when he fell he hit his head hard on the floor. There was no funeral, he was cremated and I wasn't there. That same day Father Patrick ushered me into his car and we drove through the night.


	4. Chapter 4

I slept in the backseat, but it was far from restful. My body shook violently from this chill deep inside of me, even with three fleece blankets wrapped tightly around me. It wasn’t until the first rays of sunrise streaked across the clear sky that I had finally drifted off into sleep. But when Father Patrick gently shook me awake after he had parked in front of a diner just off the highway, I wished I had stayed awake the whole time. What I remember of the dream I had while zonked out had left me drained. I kept dreaming of my dad. We were at home making dinner together. Then suddenly he turns on me and wraps his hands tight around my neck. Each time I’m saved by another version of me with eyes made out of light. I think it might have actually been David. He was the only reason I could have fought back that demon yesterday. I should feel grateful, he saved me, but he also made me kill my dad.  
Father Patrick led me inside the diner. He found us a booth while I went to the restroom to change and brush my teeth. Once I was done, I quickly went out to the car and threw my duffle bag into the trunk before joining the Father in the booth. I sat on the opposite side and opened up the menu. He ordered a chicken salad, and even though breakfast time for normal people was already over I had pancakes. We both ordered coffee, though mine was half filled with milk and sugar. While we waited I was grateful Father Patrick didn’t try and get me to talk about what happened last night. I didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Later I’d let the reality of my loss sink in and cry some more. I would grieve properly later, when I could be alone. Instead he started to talk about the meeting with Leah. Truthfully I had forgotten about it. Apparently this diner was the ‘safe place’ that she had suggested and would be here soon. Father Patrick had talked to her on the phone while I was in the restroom. He also handed me a hex bag he had made at some point during the drive here, I must have been out when we stopped. He told me to wear it at all times so I tied it to one of the belt loops on my pants. It probably looked really strange dangling on my hip next to my rosary, but I really didn’t care. It wasn’t long after that when our food arrived.  
I was in the process of drenching my pancakes with maple syrup and honey when a woman maybe in her forties entered the diner. She had some sort of band t-shirt on that I didn’t recognize, jeans, and a leather jacket. Her black hair was cut short pixie-style and she kept playing with the necklace she was wearing as she looked around the vicinity. I had stuffed my mouth full of pancake when she walked over to our booth.  
“I thought I recognized that grey hair,” the woman said to Father Patrick. He turned to look up at her and smiled.  
“Its good to see you again Leah,” he said standing up and giving her a friendly hug. “Danny, I’d like you to meet Sister Leah. Leah this is Danielle Hunter.” She extended out her hand and I took it.  
“Good to meet you Danny,” she said before letting go of my hand. She slid into the booth next to Father Patrick after ordering herself a cup of coffee. “You have a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” I was reaching towards another sugar packet to sprinkle in my coffee when she asked. I swallowed before answering.  
“Not really. I just felt like something sweet today, I guess,” I said, quickly retracting my hand before I picked up the packet. Its not like I really need another one anyway, I could barely taste the coffee as is. She hummed in understanding and looked at me like I had just proved some sort of stereotype by wanting to sweeten my meal. It really bugged me.  
“I heard you had a stressful night,” she said. I nodded and returned to my pancakes. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I mumbled a thanks between mouth full’s, keeping my eyes on my plate. Leah waited until I was finished eating before she started questioning me about David. I retold my story for her even though I’m sure Father Patrick had already told her what was happening to me. She patiently listened until I was finished, then started to tell me about her experience dealing with a similar case. It had started the same way as me apparently, the young man kept seeing another face in his reflection, but could never remember what it looked like afterwards. Then came the voice that couldn’t remember anything about itself, but wouldn’t stop talking. That part was certainly different from my relationship with David. Soon after came the miracles. People’s lives the young man touched suddenly got better. He healed people by talking to them. Occasionally there were really bizarre miracles as well, like an old tree suddenly appearing outside his house where there wasn’t one last night. It all had caught a lot of attention from some very bad people. The young man ended up having to go into hiding.  
“Father Patrick said the presence changed him,” I said holding onto my now cold coffee cup tight.  
“It influenced him, yes. He use to be a very quiet boy who was very dedicated to his studies. It's really changed how he lives,” she said. Her tone of voice changed when she saw my nervous expression. “Not necessarily in a negative way, he’s actually more outgoing and active then he use to be. I think you should meet him, maybe that would help.”  
“You know where he is?” Father Patrick said, and she nods.  
“We keep in touch. He’s been traveling with the Parkinson family; they’re heading to Nashville right now for a hunting trip,” she said.  
“That’s only about six hours from here, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it if I don’t get some sleep first,” he said, laughing.  
“You really should have stopped for the night Patrick, we originally weren’t suppose to meet until later tonight anyway,” Leah said. He just shrugged and smiled. I had been avoiding looking at Father Patrick since I woke up, so I hadn’t noticed the dark bags under his eyes. “How about I take her? Would that be okay with you Danny?” Before I get a chance to say anything Father Patrick cuts me off.  
“No, she’d be safer with me,” he said. Leah gave him a skeptical look, adding in a small condescending ‘oh?’ “Not that I don’t trust your skills Leah, but Danny just lost her only family. She needs a familiar face right now.”  
“Yes, all right,” Leah, said sighing. I was drumming my fingers against my leg as they continued to talk about me as if I wasn’t there. They were treating me like a child. I was hurt, I was scared, but I was not helpless. I kept quiet as they continued to talk about what else had been happening in the two friends’ lives until Leah had to leave. Father Patrick paid the bill and we walked out to the car. Leah stopped me and said she had something for me before we left. I walked with her to her truck and she pulled out of the trunk a suitcase. It was filled with lots of different types of knives, all different sizes. She handed me a small one along with a holder I could attach to my belt. She said it had been cooled with holy water during the forging process, so it would be helpful if another demon attacked. Finally she gave me three phone numbers, saying I could reach the young man who had the same condition as me, Elijah Foster, on any of those. I thanked her once again and walked back to Father Patrick’s car.   
We drove for a half an hour until we found a city big enough with a decent motel. This time I paid close attention to the scenery. Father Patrick found a reasonably priced place and booked a room for the night deciding it would be better to rest for the day. Then tomorrow we would head to Tennessee. After we settled in, I told him I needed to take a walk. He said I shouldn’t leave without him, but I told him I needed the air and the time alone to grieve. Reluctantly he agreed. I walked to the motel’s lobby where I had noticed an ATM earlier and withdrawn five hundred dollars from my checking account. Outside I stretched my legs by walking around the parking lot for about a half an hour before I returned to the motel room. It wasn’t much longer until Father Patrick fell asleep. I grabbed my duffle bag, stashed the knife Leah gave me inside it, wrote a quick note for the Father then left. I walked into town where I saw a bus station earlier. When I got there, I found the bus routes posted on the wall. This place only traveled to nearby cities, but one of them went to a station that had buses that crossed state lines. Apparently I was in Missouri. Thankfully the bus was leaving in only ten minutes, I bought my ticket, grabbed a few candy bars and a pop tart from a vending machine, and then waited. The bus was pretty empty, but I still sat in the back.   
“David. I really need to talk to you,” I said once the bus was on the road. I felt that warmth in my chest and he appeared in a blink of an eye sitting next to me.   
“About last night, I’m –“ he said, but I cut him off.  
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear some halfhearted traditional line that people say whether they care or not,” I said, my voice caught in my throat a little. “I need to know how I broke free of that demon’s power. Was that you?”  
“I believe it was also you,” he said. I stared at him and he stared back. It felt like we were both expecting the other to have all the answers, but neither of us did.   
“That doesn’t really comfort me, you know,” I said, tapping my fingers on my right leg. “Do you think this Elijah guy has more of a clue to what this is?”  
“I can not say, I have never met him and I do not understand what has happened to me. I do not understand what is happening to you,” he said. “I’m sorry that my presence has some how gotten you involved in a world that is very dangerous.” Some how his admission that he was as lost as me lifted a weight off my shoulders. I chuckled.  
“I became involved the day I saw that demon at the church when I was seven. Once you know the supernatural exist there is no going back,” I said. We rode in silence the rest of the way, and when we got to our stop he followed me off. He didn’t have to maneuver around people like I did as I made my way to the next bus heading for Tennessee. David’s form just passed right through them. Once on, I settled into a seat in the back again. I curled up my legs under me, and rested my head against the window. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks and I let myself cry until I fell asleep. I didn’t even notice when the bus started to move. David still sat next to me, I could feel him watching me but I didn’t care anymore. I was too tired to care.   
What woke me up hours later was the gnawing pain in my stomach from not having dinner. Groggily I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and straightened out in my seat. My neck felt stiff from the painful position I had been sleeping in. Next to me was David, his eyes were closed, shoulders relaxed, and his head slumped to one side. He genuinely looked like he was asleep. I had never seen before what I looked like when I slept. My bangs kept falling into his eyes. I wanted to reach out and push them out of the way for him, but I was afraid I might wake him up. Just because I was a fairly heavy sleeper didn’t mean it applied to David while he borrowed my form. Fishing out my phone from my pocket, I checked the time. There wasn’t even an hour left before we would arrive in Nashville. I also had five missed calls from Father Patrick. He had noticed I had disappeared, but I decided I wouldn’t call him back until after I found the man that I needed to meet. Not able to ignore my stomach anymore, I dug out the pop tart and candy from my duffle bag. I finished the pop tart faster then I would have liked and moved onto one of the candy bars when I decided it was time I tried getting a hold of Elijah Foster. I dialed the first number and waited anxiously listening to the rings.  
“Who is this and how did you get this number?” a man’s voice flows through my phone’s speaker.  
“Sister Leah gave me this number. I’m looking for Elijah Foster,” I said, my voice cracked from how dry my throat was. Biting my lip, I hoped I still sounded confident enough. Static and shuffling noises came through the speaker before a different voice spoke up.  
“This is Elijah,” he said. I took a deep breath before answering.  
“Hello Elijah, um, I’m Danny. Sister Leah told me about what happened to you seven months ago,” I said.  
“If you’re looking for a healer, I really don’t do that anymore,” he said.  
“No. Actually, I’ve recently found myself is a similar situation,” I said, not sure how much I should share over the phone. I looked over at David who was still asleep before continuing. “I was hoping we could meet.”  
“Hold on,” he said. I heard shuffling like the phone was pressed up against cloth for a few minutes before he starts to talk again. “You have a presence, not ghost or anything, a benevolent presence that speaks to only you?”  
“Right now he’s sleeping, but yes,” I said. He laughs and I hit my head against the window at how stupid I just sounded. I really didn’t mean to say that.  
“Alright, why not. Let’s meet,” he said, I could hear the smile on his face. “You anywhere near Nashville, Tennessee? I don’t know how long we’ll be staying but-“  
“I’m thirty minutes away,” I said.  
“Let me guess, Sister Leah told you. We’re staying at the Westward motel, room 114. See you soon kid,” he said, and then hung up. I sighed and put my phone away. Leaning back into the seat I let my muscles relax, but determined to stay awake the rest of the way.   
“Was that Elijah?” David said, and I jumped a little at the sound of his voice. I turned to face him to find him sitting upright at attention staring at me with his head tilted to the side.  
“I thought you were still asleep,” I said, holding a hand over my heart.  
“I do not think I need to sleep,” he said.  
“Well for a guy who doesn’t need sleep, you looked pretty out of it,” I said. “I’m going to go meet Elijah once we get to the city, and after I get some food.” He nods and we spend the rest of the time in silence. It was dark when we got off the bus, but the station was still fairly busy. I stopped at one of the ticket stations to ask for directions, then made my way to the closest and cheapest restaurant nearby. A Denny’s. I ordered a burger, fries and a milkshake, and immediately dug in. About half way through the meal I realized David had been sitting across the table watching me eat. It wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable if he weren’t wearing this hard stare like he was contemplating the meaning of life, which he could have been doing for all I know. He could read my mind, but it didn’t seem to work the other way around. I couldn’t help but slow down eating after that. It made me feel a bit self-conscious. I had just finished my meal when my cell phone rang. It was Father Patrick again. I didn’t answer. After paying, I headed back outside ready for the long walk to the Westward motel.  
“Why didn’t you take Father Patrick’s call?” David asked as we passed the third landmark on the route I had planned out. I didn’t stop. I didn’t look at him. I just kept walking.  
“Because I’m mad at him,” I said, hoping he would drop it. He didn’t.  
“Because he would not let you have a say in when you met Elijah?” He said, and I nodded. “He is just concerned about your safety. He is your family, because family does not just end with blood.”  
“But I’m also an adult who deserves to be included in decisions. Especially decisions that concern me.”  
“Free will is very important,” he said and then stopped walking. It took me a minute to notice he was no longer by my side. I looked behind me to see what the hold up was. David stared up at the sky with a dreamy look on his face.  
“David?” I said. He felt distant, like he was looking at a place far away from here only he could see. “Everything okay?”  
“Yes,” he said returning his attention to me. “I remembered something.”  
“What?” I asked with wide eyes.  
“I forgot,” he said. I sighed, and smiled. Both relieved and disappointed. I’m not sure if either of those feelings were entirely my own.  
“Well that’s not very helpful,” I laughed and he stared at me, tilting his head again. It seemed to be a comforting, familiar gesture for him. “Maybe you should rest for a bit?” I didn’t know if that was even possible, but he seemed to agree. That warmth in my chest returned and then he was gone. I walked the rest of the way to the motel by myself, keeping a tight grip on the knife Leah gave me, still sheathed, all the way there.  
It must have been almost ten at night when I finally reached the motel. I stood outside the door of room 114 for a few minutes, before I worked up the courage to knock. A tall middle-aged man answered the door; I had to noticeably look up to meet his eyes.


End file.
